


This is how the end of a good man tastes like

by vhis



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Angst, Confessions, Extended dialogue, Feelings, Foreshadowing, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Missing Scene, Pining, Pirate Husbands, Power Play, Season 3 Finale, explains the future, explains them, long john, so much pain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-29
Updated: 2016-05-29
Packaged: 2018-07-10 23:22:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7012327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vhis/pseuds/vhis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is what I imagine happening between Flint and Silver after Flint gives him the DARKNESS talk and then the night they spend burying the treasure. This explains why Flint changes into James when talking to Silver, and why Silver reads the end of him. And it sets all the events to come in season 4, etc. to the eventual demise of Flint.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> I was not ready for the way Flint changed into James when near Silver. I wasn't ready for his attitude, for Silver to be his reason to live, as Miranda pointed out. So I tried to make sense of it. This is my horribly painful and angst filled take on the last day before the war started.  
> Also, english not my native language, so if you come across something horrible...trust me, it will not be as painfull as this fic.  
> Tell me what you think if you please.

What it is that he feels about Silver doing this, he doesn’t know. But he does know what Silver felt about it. It must have shown on his face, the mix of feeling, because the man gives him one look and then demands an answer.

-If you have something to add, you should just f*cking say it.

It should be worrying that he can be read like this. But not anymore. He feels at peace. Strange how Silver is peace to him.

-That's not why you did it, he says and has Silver’s attention.

-Really? Would you like to tell me why I did it, then?

He remembers the first time he had to punish a crew member. He was captain for 2 days before that. He retched after the deed, alone, behind the tavern, and that night he fucked Miranda in a way he never did before and for the first time after departing London.

-Well, I wasn't there, but, um, I'd hazard the guess that you learned of what had happened, told him how f*cking stupid he was, and in that moment, he gave you a look that amounted to something less than contrite. And in that moment, you felt it.

-Felt what?

 -Darkness. Hate. Now, if you and I are to lead these men together, you must learn to know its presence well so that you may use it... Rather than it use you.

-You have some experience with this, I imagine, living in fear of such a thing within you?

-Yeah, I do.

\- I can't tell if this was a warning or a welcome.

-I think, finally, I can accept what I wasn’t ready to accept.

-Who you are?

Flint stares him down, because No, that’s not what he is ready to accept. He lost himself, he lost the meaning of that self. Lost it, but could not kill it. Silver himself, unknowingly, stopped his hand in killing captain Flint, the imagined monster, in that cage. No...he might not know who he is now, but he knows he has to go on, for something...

-I see myself compelled to accept that I don’t have to do this alone. I think it’s clear now for the both of us, the future, the possibilities…

Silver smiles, with mischief, and rearranges his feet, the existing one, next to the shadow of the other, the iron mark of his allegiance and sits back a little, a king on a wooden throne.  And then he looks him straight in the eyes, not with the calm of the ocean he hold there, but with the deceitful blue of the skies.

-Strange pairs...They can achieve the most unexpected things.

And Flint’s heart stops, his breath stops and Miranda’s voice creaks, like a phantom pain, in his mind: _See? Can you see him now?_

But he can’t, he can’t possibly, because listening these same words from other lips…And it’s so unlike Thomas, the man sitting next to him now, it feels like cheating and it feels like the crumbs of a life he has nothing left and wants all of back, but can never, ever have again.

-Why did you…

But he can’t ask Silver why he said it. And why with that smile and why then the frown and the little dip of his chin.  Because the king is dead, long live the queen and Silver excuses himself and leaves him behind.

It feels like a relief, but also like a premonition, and so he sits there, for another minute, until the tingling in his arms stops and he sees that Silver is with Madi, so he sits up and resumes his role and goes to offer his condolences to the queen, as the colony starts to make preparations for the burial of Mr.Scott. So much of himself he saw in that man.

The two faced man, the king and the slave. But instead of him rising to wage war and terror, he helped build his home by renouncing any thought of acknowledgement. He did it all in the shadow, with patience and self sacrifice. And that, he thinks, made him a good man. That, he thinks, is why he’ll never be one. Not by Thomas’s standards.

He doesn’t know why, but thinking of Thomas makes him want to find Silver at the beginning of the night, resume their conversation.  But looking would be too much and then Jack finds him instead and when he tells him his quartermaster is in the daughter’s arms, well prepared for the next move in the game. He stops needing and stops wanting and stops hearing. But starts feeling.

And goes to the queen and convinces her that somehow the gold is a curse and it needs to be buried without her knowing where. He’s a monster again, when needed, when he burns like this. Only that this time, he burns because of someone else.

Tomorrow, tomorrow, she says, lost and pained and he sees himself in her pain and her despair, and he hates it so he goes and stands to the side, cursing himself and Silver and Hennessey, the admiral who predicted his character.

The thing that rises in him when passions are aroused.... Darker. Wilder. He’s so caught up in his mind, trying to find a reason to fight this war that he agrees, apparently, to make Jack a captain on the second ship, but later in the night, when all he can hear is the incense carrying prayers, for the life of him, he can’t remember it.

But Silver asks for an explanation to appease DeGroot. And James… he feels anger, even if the request is valid and he should explain himself. But he can’t, he can’t explain anything to Silver, not when all he thinks about is that this man is …is what?

-You were with her daughter. I congratulate the tactics, but I would advise caution.

-What the fuck are you talking about?

-Worming your way into her mind.

-I wasn’t…I’m not…can you please stop using that word? I’m not _worming_ my way into anyone’s mind. You keep using it when you resent me, when I get close. It’s not my fault I’m the only one that understands you.

-Just…

-No, listen. You started this so fucking listen.

And the thump thump of his iron foot makes angry imprints in the floor as the man advances into his private space. After three stepts, the cadence of the steps becomes that of his heart.

-You’re stuck in this role and you need a villain of your own and while I can see the attraction in making me your personal devil, for the moment, I’m not. I can be it for you, if you need me, but it doesn’t make it true that I’m making any moves against you. I’m here! What is this? Where is this coming from?

Flint can’t stand there. So close, so close he can feel it coming to surface…So he paces the small room, darkness and smell liquefying his bones and his mind. And it’s so quiet, the village asleep, the voices in his mind gone.

-I convinced the queen to let me hide the gold.

-You what?

It works. He’s taken aback. And after a pause, Silver laughs, hands grabbing at his hair.

-You thought I’m doing the same. Playing Madi. I’m not you, you know?

-I know!

Silver is not him. He would do anything to survive. The irony is that Silver, somehow, accepted to even do this war.

-No, you don’t, captain. I was there with her because she needed a shoulder to cry on. And while you resented it and sent me to hell when I offered you the same, she took it. You don’t understand me, don’t fool yourself into thinking you do. Maybe your arrogance, maybe your sorrow, maybe the power of fear you went over yourself to instigate in the world made you blind to the study of men, maybe I wasn’t important enough to you as to make a point in knowing me.

Flint huffs, but Silver ignores it, comes closer again.

\- She _does_ know me. She’s to me what I am for you.

He looks at Silver then, brows knitted, a sentence on his tongue. Silver looks at it, a fraction of a second when he looks like he’s trying to decide something and then his eyes are leaving him and looking into the space above his shoulder.

\- She tells me I can’t lose myself.  She tells me the crown is always a burden. She tells me I can come back from the darkness I followed you into.

-What the fuck are you on about?

-I _did_ study you. In the beginning, because I needed to know how to navigate you and survive. Then because you were my only chance to get what I needed and get out. I recognized your power over men and tried to learn how to repel it. But I learned since then. The more powerful the world saw you, the weaker you seemed to me. No-just… let me finish. Your determination wasn’t a fire anymore, it was explosions. Fewer and more unpredictable. I saw sorrow, loneliness, terror at the thing you were becoming. And I lived them with you. I felt them. Every one of them. Even the hate. It was nearly my end. Poor, starved, loyal and dead. And that’s when I knew.

-Knew what?

-That I’m not like you and I can never be, no matter how deep I follow you inside this madness. Because I can never think that I hate myself. All along, all I did and kept me alive, it was because I knew who I was and my ..continuation was a priority. No goal, no bigger picture. Just my life, my survival in safety. 

-I’d say it’s a little late for that. In case you forgot, the war is coming to us.

-I’m not worried about that. I have men to fight for me, around me. I have you. I’m worried that …I don’t feel them anymore. The hate, the sorrow, the loneliness.

-Because of her?

-No...because of you.

That silences Flint. Even his breath catches and one by one his senses heighten as Silver makes his way to him, slowly but unmistakably determined. He doesn’t know if he fears it or wants it. He should decide.

-I didn’t know hate. Well, I hated the man that cut off my leg, but he’s dead, so that didn’t last long. And I thought I hated you for making me doubt myself and do thigs, but that was just your hate for yourself that I felt. I didn’t know fear. Not real fear. Or power. Or loneliness. And now, I’ll never have to know them. Because I learned them from you.

He should decide…he should…The decision is made for him.

-I don’t know how you’ll take this, but along the way, following you there, in the belly of that beast you manifested around you by just being… I found myself loving. There no other logical explanation as to why I was so blind to some aspects of you and your decisions. I let myself fall and I went too far. Or so I thought. 

The tone isn’t loving…it’s so far away from the tone Tho…No! he can’t think of him now. Not when there’s someone in front of him reaching a hand to give him a touch that in no way can be mistaken for that of a crewman. And so far himself from thinking of Silver as that. So he catches the hand, suspicions still, heart pounding inside him and guides it to his cheek.

\- I don’t know all of it, of you, and it might be dangerous to do this still lacking knowledge, but… I don’t fear you anymore. _That_ is what worries me. That I love you like this and want you to live.

A breath escapes James and he crumbles, he does, as if finally, the last need to hide who he lost is rendered unnecessary.

-And tell me if I’m wrong…but you want me-

He thinks Silver will stop at that. And the rhythm of his heart could wake up the camp. But Silver goes on.

-You want me to stop fearing you. And I have to wonder why. Like I wonder why you would fight this war. Like I wonder how you sleep at night. Like I wonder if you would answer all my questions if I had the time to ask.

But it doesn’t feel like a question, so he doesn’t answer. He just let’s go and pushes, an inch, one and a half and he has Silver a breath away, so he kisses him.

-Captain!

It isn’t the dawn that rips him from this dream. And it’s not really a dream, even if it lasted for less than a breath. But it is close to dawn. And the voice repeats itself, closer, as the blue eyes focus in concentration on his lips. Silver doesn’t make a move to step away from him, so he does, rubbing at his forehead, his neck, but not his lips and he retreats deeper into the room.

 It’s Dobbs and Silver has words with him, words he doesn’t acknowledge. He can only hear the sound his lips make as they pull apart and close again. Dry, hot and completely and utterly bereft.

-Captain…I need to make the preparations as discussed. And the queen asks for you and Jack.

It’s done. What happened here. Silver’s tone is back, his look is back, his stance is back, the composure he wears in front of the crew. And then, right then, in that moment, James turns and looks at this strange man. And as he nods, and the quartermaster lingers for just a second, enough for him to see the minute rise of a corner of that mouth, James McGraw is screaming inside him.

Because that man could come back from _that_ , when he, James Flint, the role, the deception, the need, the drive to revenge, the long forged purpose, the villain…almost entirely lost himself in it.

And it feels final, the slow rise of the knowledge that the past is soon to be buried for good. It’s then, as John Silver descends the stairs, crooked and alone, but with purpose, that both James Flint and James McGraw start to fear him.


	2. Chapter 2

\- You sure this is wise? At the end of the day, secrets among friends are the source of all good things gone wrong.

He expected him, his limp that didn’t make him less and his attitude that made him more and his obscene confidence that made him unbearably desirable. But this time he expected the rise in his pulse and knew to set aside lie from truth. He’s trapped, but by God, he’s clever enough to try and minimize the loses.

-Is that what we are now? Friends? 

All he can think of, as he snarls this reply, partly for Jack, and for himself, and maybe even for Silver, is that Silver was as warm as the cabinet he collapsed against, on the ship, unknown and unknowable, after shooting a man in cold blood, because Silver couldn’t and shouldn’t do it.  

-She agreed it was best for all for its whereabouts to remain unknown, provided that you were among the circle that knew of it. You they trust above any of us not to betray for money.

The incredible power Silver has, planned or not, is both infuriating and compelling. To make the queen ask specifically for him to be here, to insist even, when Flint asked that the quartermaster be kept separate of this…As he digs, he imagines himself digging inside Silver’s head. He huffs a laugh again, as said man takes a seat next to him.

\- I've heard you use that word a thousand times. A war against England, now a war to reclaim Nassau. But hearing Jack use it just now, so near the actual arrival of it, it sounds different.

-Are you having second thoughts?

He should and after their talk, even more so, because Silver really should resent him. For bringing the war here, for looking for it, for making men die for it. And to what end? A plot of earth to grow corn on?

-Aren't you? All of the blood that's about to be spilt, all the things about to be lost... aren't you?

-Well, I wish it wasn't necessary, if that's what you're asking.

But he isn’t asking that. He’s asking why. Silver still relies on him to make the necessary and the ugly comfortable.

-Your demons are a part of our reality. Such is the nature of the influence you wield. Some of those demands I've come to know... but the one in whose name this war is to be fought... it is still a stranger to me. Before this war actually begins, I'm asking where it actually began. Will you tell me?

Flint stops ruining the ground, looks up and tries to ruin the calm, trusting face looking at him.

-Lat night, you let me understand you find yourself feeling something like-…

-Love. I think it is love. Those few I saw it in reacted as I did; look as I look…And I wasn’t trying to be vague. I was _telling_ you.

Flint grinds his teeth on something like physical pain, like shouts and accusations like Then love me, show me I can be loved…But it’s not Silver’s fault, not this.

-And I’m telling you that last night I saw myself in you. You told me Madi is to you what you are to me. I tell you …you are to me what I was to him. A partner. Sometimes, the voice of reason. The barrier. And I love him more than I could ever hate or kill or feel sorry in this life.

-You love him?

He only now realizes the tense and smiles, seeing the confused look on Silver. It doesn’t suit him, but it is endearing.

-Loved him. In heart and…in body.

Maybe he expected a reaction. But more likely, he didn’t. And he wants to say: See, see, I know you too.  I knew you wouldn’t care about such things. It’s part of why…-It’s part of the why.

-He was a good man. Trusting man. Devoted man. And yet, they all called him mad. And not for me, that was only a front. He wanted to make a world for men, but men didn’t want his reason. Madness is such a hard thing to define, which makes it such an easy label to affix to one's enemies. Once it had been applied to Thomas, once our relationship had been exposed, defiled, scandalized... everything ended. There were times that I was persuaded to sue for peace since then, but that was the day that on some level I knew... that England was broken... and that sooner or later a good man must resist it.

-I don't know what to say.

-You don't need to say anything. You asked me where I began, and I felt that you were entitled to an answer... To the truth.

-I appreciate that. And I am genuinely sorry. But you can see how this might be of particular and immediate concern for me.

-I can?

-Well, before today I knew of two people who managed to truly know you, to gain your trust, to be your partner, and they both ended up dead while playing the role.

-Now, wait a minute...

And he’s struggling to not be afraid. Was this too much? Will he alienate Silver? Not as a lover, he didn’t even think beyond that kiss, maybe imagined kiss…He just…

-Now you're telling me there's a third member of this class, making it even less credible to characterize Mr. Gates' and Mrs. Barlow's deaths as bad luck. It would seem that those closest to you meet their end not just during their relationship, but because of it. And as I sit here, I'm acutely aware there may be no one closer to you in the world right now than I.

-What exactly are you saying? That I've somehow sought out my own tragedies?

-Did you not tell me that our darkest motives will conceal themselves from us? Cloak themselves in whatever they must in order to move us to action? And even if that's not true, a pattern is a pattern, and only a fool ignores one because he does not care for the implications.

-So you see yourself as a potential fourth member of this class, concerned that your association with me will lead to your end.

-My association with you began out of necessity, but I've come to find a great deal of respect for you. Perhaps even friendship.

-Hmm…

And he touches his lips, just to see Silver follow his movement, smirk, lower his eyes.

\- Which is why I find myself unnerved by the thought that when this pattern applies itself to you and I... that I will be the end of you.

That is unexpected.

-Is that so?

-Well, the three who preceded me all had one thing in common. They were vulnerable to you. Had more to lose than you, less means with which to protect themselves than you. Until recently, I thought that was me as well, but now... I don't know that it is anymore.

\- It is natural for men new to power to assume that it has no limits. Trust me. It does.

He lowers his head and … yes, this may be the last time they speak of this. They speak _like_ this. The threat of a war and maybe death upon them. By the fire, only the two of them. A fallen demon and a rising god.

-I once thought that to lead men in this world, to be liked was just as good as feared, and that may very well be true. But to be both liked and feared all at once is an entirely different state of being... in which, I believe, at this moment, I exist alone.

-How’s that?

-Well…my men fear me, but love me. And you love me or at least want me, need me. And that makes you fear me too. And men fear you, but they do not feel love towards you.

-And what do you propose…why are you telling me this?

-Because I can’t have you, I realized. And you can’t have me. Not like that. But still, you have to keep me close and I have to stay close. For as long as our purposes are aligned. And maybe it will be hell at times. Because I _do_ love you. But I don’t fear you. And because I have no shame in acknowledging my love…

-and James becomes a statue-

-…I also feel I’ll be able to discern when my best interest will no longer be at your side. And, unlike you, I’ll be able to walk away.

It should feel like rejection, but it doesn’t. Silver isn’t making a threat. Or maybe he is, but it’s irrelevant. What they say to each other here is an oath. It’s also a trust statement. And the unmistakable proof that they are linked and accept their faith.

-Let us say there is some merit to your argument. But in terms of our future and the danger that you believe you may pose to me, bear this in mind. I have survived starvation, a tempest, pirate hunters, jealous captains, mutinous crews, angry lords, a queen, a king, and the goddamn British navy. So to whatever extent you may be concerned that some day we will clash, worried that though today we be friends, some day you will have no choice but to be my end, I wouldn't worry too much.

Silver looks, at him, pity on his features, laughing at his sneer.

-Don’t look at me like that.

-Captain…James…Can’t you see I’m trying to warn you against yourself? You are still a good man. And it makes you weak. You will love me, if not already. You will love me because I will _worship_ you, be devoted to you and help you get what you want. Or take you to the point you’ll understand what you want. I’ll help you battle the world. But some day, when you’ll realize I come to surpass you, in darkness maybe, and in power, because I will, you’ll try and separate yourself from me or play against me, or tame me. 

\- Are you drunk on power already?

And he smiles, but it’s bitter and, as earlier, afraid. Silver schools his features, raises a hand as to say Forgive me, and comes closer, grunting in pain as he sets himself standing in between Flint’s legs, looking down on him, a hand caressing his head.

-No. I’m just not a good man. I’m everything you wanted to become and not resent. And not fear. I’m becoming the Flint you wanted to create. Just without the pain, the loss and the need to become the villain. And someday, you’ll hate me for it, just like you believe he would hate you for it. Even if all I do from now on, like I did from the beginning, is to stand by you.

Silver then bends and kisses his silent lips, hard pressed and eyes closed, turns and leaves to become something…something…Over his shoulder, he whispers.

-Maybe you’ll never remember this, all we lived and we will live. Tonight. This talk. How it will all connect to lead us to that point. But I will. It’s my power and maybe a curse.

-What’s that? James asks, trembling.

-My long long memory.

And then he vanishes into the darkness, leaving him to wonder where they are now and if even they exist on the same shore of reality.

His lips now taste of rum.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading. I would love to hear your opinion.


End file.
